


there's love to be had

by pdameron



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, SPECTRE Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-15 00:46:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11794929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pdameron/pseuds/pdameron
Summary: “I won’t begrudge you your happy ending, Bond. If you want to ride off into the sunset, MI6 won’t stop you,” Mallory says. “But I will say this. If you do walk away, take care with what you leave behind.”(In which Bond has a bit of an epiphany on the bridge and finds that he can't leave MI6 just yet.)





	there's love to be had

**Author's Note:**

> yet another "i hate that fucking bridge scene" fic, because...well, i hate that fucking bridge scene.
> 
> i love you [anna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gammadolphin/pseuds/gammadolphin), thanks for being my beta yet again

 

If he were to shoot Blofeld right here, no one would bat an eye. There’s no question that the man’s guilty, no question that Bond would be in the right. But Bond finds that if there’s one thing Ernst Blofeld doesn’t deserve, it’s a quick death. 

Let him rot. 

Bond ejects the magazine, makes some snide remark about having better things to do, and looks back toward Madeleine. He sighs. What he needs now is about ten years of rest, and a warm body to comfort him. Preferably someone who loves him.

He waits for Mallory to come forward, waits to hear the words, to hear M take Blofeld into custody and out of Bond’s hands, before he starts to head toward Madeleine.

“I won’t begrudge you your happy ending, Bond. If you want to ride off into the sunset, MI6 won’t stop you,” Mallory says, and Bond turns back to face him, curious. “But I will say this. If you do walk away, take care with what you leave behind.”

At this, M looks over at the line of police cars and ambulances, at the crowd of people gathered behind the yellow tape. Bond can see  Moneypenny and Tanner, locked in conversation, which would mean that nearby would be - 

“Where’s Q?”

Mallory doesn’t reply. He just gives Bond a pointed look, raising a brow for good measure. He gestures for the uniformed officers to cuff and escort Blofeld off the bridge. 

Bond stays where he is, watching as Mallory walks away with his prisoner. 

‘Take care with what he leaves behind’? What exactly is he leaving behind? Days filled with blood and gore and violence? Nights spent drinking himself into oblivion, desperate to forget? A string of broken love affairs and nameless men and women? 

He supposes if he were to leave with Madeleine there would be things he’d miss: the cars and gadgets; Moneypenny, with her knowing smirks and cutting wit; Tanner, a constant shoulder to lean on; and Q, who -

Oh.

Q, who took Mallory’s little joke about Bond’s “punctuality issues” and found another way to protect him, with an exploding watch, no less. Q, who, mere minutes after a stern directive from M, agreed to undo his hard work, simply because Bond had asked him to. Q, who - not for the first time - put his career, his livelihood, at risk to help Bond. Q, who dropped everything to come to Austria, just to bring Bond home. Q, who, despite his own misgivings, looked into Franz Oberhauser because he had faith in Bond. Q, who got on a plane to come after him. Q, who  _ got on a plane _ .

Q, who is  _ in love with him. _

It’s in every gadget he presses into Bond’s hands, each one a silent plea to stay safe, to come back home. 

It’s in every harried directive he gives Bond over the comms, his voice tinged with poorly concealed worry. 

It’s in every look, every smile, every word, and Bond’s been too caught up with his own bullshit to see.

He spares Madeleine one last look. She’s closer than Moneypenny and Tanner are, and so he can see her expression: she knows. She knows he can’t leave them, knows he’s not finished with MI6, not yet. She nods at him, tells him she understands, and he returns the gesture. Madeleine Swann is a brilliant, strong woman, who doesn’t deserve to get wrapped up in the aftermath of whatever Blofeld had planned.

Bond follows Mallory, scanning the crowd as he gets closer, looking for Q’s familiar figure. When he’s finally stood next to Moneypenny and Tanner, he sighs. There’s no sign of of Q anywhere near them. He’s probably already on the tube, heading back to either his apartment or MI6. But then Tanner gives him a knowing look, pointing over Bond’s shoulder. There are a few ambulances lined up just next to the pavement, and there’s a small tendril of smoke rising from behind one. 

He doesn’t bother turning back to Tanner, just heads towards the smoke. Q’s worst kept secret is the pack of Marlboros he keeps in his laptop bag, saved for particularly bad days, and surely this would constitute - 

And there he is, leaning his elbows against the railing along the side of the bridge, smoking his cigarette.

Bond calls his name, and Q whirls around. 

“Bond? What are you - ”

“You got on a plane for me,” Bond says, walking forward determinedly. He takes the cigarette from Q, throwing it off the side of the bridge. It’s a nasty habit, one that Q needs to break;  at any rate the Thames has had worse thrown in it than a half-smoked cig.

Q looks startled by this sudden statement. “Well, there was a lot on the line, wasn’t there? I couldn’t just leave you to - ”

Bond cuts him off again. “You’re afraid to fly. Terrified, even.”

“I - well, yes,” Q admits, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck, discomfited. 

“You love me,” Bond says, and Q’s head whips up in shock. His eyes widen in surprise; his jaw drops open, moving wordlessly; there’s a red flush working its way across his cheeks, most assuredly not from the wind; and Bond’s got him. 

“I’m - ” Q begins to stammer out a reply, but whatever he’s going to say dies in his throat as Bond reaches out and grabs his scarf, reeling him in until they’re chest to chest, until he can count the moles speckling Q’s cheeks and neck. “Bond, I really don’t think - ”

Bond cuts him off by pressing their lips together gently, hands still looped in the soft fabric.  Q inhales sharply, frozen in his surprise. Of course, he wouldn’t be MI6’s quartermaster if he wasn’t adaptable, and so it only takes a moment for Q to respond, lifting his hands to Bond’s cheeks hesitantly.

Q pulls back, looking slightly dazed as he lets go. “I thought you were leaving. I thought…”

“Well, I’ve had a bit of an epiphany, you see. It’s put some things into perspective. I think where I need to be is right here,” Bond replies, smiling as he reaches up to brush some of Q’s ruffled hair from off his face. The wind is making a mess of it, and he’s finding it hopelessly endearing.

“Right here, as in London?”

Bond steps forward, tugging Q closer, hands resting at his trim waist. “Right here, as in, right here.”

Q’s on him in seconds, wrapping his arms around Bond’s neck as he pulls him into a deep kiss. Bond can feel Q smiling against his lips, and it makes something horribly fond and soft settle in his chest. It’s nothing like the kisses he’s shared with Madeleine these past few days: there’s no adrenaline rushing through him; no desperate, fleeting kisses before the thrill of the fight; no frantic, frenzied touches to prove they’re still here. 

What there is instead is a slow, simmering tenderness; a wholly unfamiliar intimacy. Just the press of Q’s chest against his; just the warmth of Q under his hand; just Q’s gentle fingers carding through his hair. Bond lets himself get lost in it, in the feel of Q’s tongue against his, in the soft gasps and breathy sighs he lets slip as Bond shows him just how much he wants to be here.

When they finally separate Q smiles sweetly at him, before scowling suddenly and thumping him on the chest. “Don’t think this means I forgive you for making me get on a fucking plane,” he complains, in typical Q fashion. “There’ll be no more exploding watches until you make it up to me.”

Bond smiles, and thinks that this is what it feels like to fall in love.

**Author's Note:**

> title from the musical Waitress
> 
> [tumblr](https://vesprlynd.tumblr.com)!


End file.
